The War Terror eBook

It was evident that Burke knew nothing, at least of
this new plot which Miss Lowe had indicated.
Kennedy beckoned him over to the window furthest from
the door to his own room.

“What have you discovered?” he asked,
forestalling Burke in the questioning. “What
has happened?”

“You haven’t heard, then?” replied
Burke.

Kennedy nodded negatively.

“Fortescue, the American inventor of fortescite,
the new explosive, died very strangely this morning.”

“Yes,” encouraged Kennedy, as Burke came
to a full stop to observe the effect of the information.

“Most incomprehensible, too,” he pursued.
“No cause, apparently. But it might have
been overlooked, perhaps, except for one thing.
It wasn’t known generally, but Fortescue had
just perfected a successful electro-magnetic gun—­powderless,
smokeless, flashless, noiseless and of tremendous
power. To-morrow he was to have signed the contract
to sell it to England. This morning he is found
dead and the final plans of the gun are gone!”

Kennedy and Burke were standing mutely looking at
each other.

“Who is in the next room?” whispered Burke
hoarsely, recollecting Kennedy’s caution of
silence.

Kennedy did not reply immediately. He was evidently
much excited by Burke’s news of the wonderful
electro-magnetic gun.

“Burke,” he exclaimed suddenly, “let’s
join forces. I think we are both on the trail
of a world-wide conspiracy—­a sort of murder
syndicate to wipe out war!”

Burke’s only reply was a low whistle that involuntarily
escaped him as he reached over and grasped Craig’s
hand, which to him represented the sealing of the
compact.

As for me, I could not restrain a mental shudder at
the power that their first murder had evidently placed
in the hands of the anarchists, if they indeed had
the electro-magnetic gun which inventors had been
seeking for generations. What might they not do
with it—­perhaps even use it themselves and
turn the latest invention against society itself!

He had scarcely finished when he reached for the telephone
and asked for long distance.

“Is this the German embassy in Washington?”
asked Craig a few moments later when he got his number.
“This is Craig Kennedy, in New York. The
United States Secret Service will vouch for me—­
mention to them Mr. Burke of their New York office
who is here with me now. I understand that Baron
Kreiger is leaving for New York to meet some bankers
this afternoon. He must not do so. He is
in the gravest danger if he—­What? He
left last night at midnight and is already here?”

Kennedy turned to us blankly.

The door to his room opened suddenly.

There stood Miss Lowe, gazing wild-eyed at us.
Evidently her supernervous condition had heightened
the keenness of her senses. She had heard what
we were saying. I tried to read her face.
It was not fear that I saw there. It was rage;
it was jealousy.